Sad Day in Mudville

I have measured out my life with coffee spoons
-T.S. Elliot
I could live without coffee… But I’d probably be a serial killer
-Kenneth Goorabian

The inevitable finally happened: the perfect storm of weekend overindulgence and
laissez faire attitude has culminated in a gut-wrenching awareness that I’ve run out
of coffee.

To some (who are you people?) this may seem rather silly, but I assure you, this is no
good ship lollipop to this Surly Temple. Without my morning cup ‘o joe, I tend to get a
wee bit anxious. But I’m no moodier than say… Jack the Ripper. Okay, slightly less. I
would only hurt someone if they were standing between me and the coffee pot.

I was a late bloomer to this miracle bean. In my younger years, I forsook coffee shops
for apartments wallpapered with tapestries and black-light posters; rooms pungent and hazy from cheap head-shop incense. With age comes wisdom though. I finally saw the light.
It was a glowing orange orb coming from my new best friend, Mr. Coffee.

And yes, Mr. C and I are still together. Oh, I was seduced over the years by newer, sleeker,
high-maintenance models, with their hourglass decanters and K-Cups, but always
returned to my first love. I’ve come to realize that relationships require hard work. Others promise increased satisfaction with less energy. I for one find no grounds for divorce.

Remember….  Death before Decaf

Kenneth Kona Goorabian

Two All Beef Patties and a Side of Cheesy Thighs

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"My therapist told me the way to achieve true inner peace is to finish what I start. So far today, I have finished two bags of M&M’s and a chocolate cake. I feel better already." 

-Dave Barry

"Carbs, oh carbs, how I love thee. Let me count the waist."

-Kenneth Goorabian

Dear Seventeen Magazine,

I have bad skin, I’m frustrated with chubbiness and can never decide what to wear. Oh, and I have too many shoes. What can I do? 

p.s. I’m a 63-year-old man who has a teenage girl living inside me.

Fat & Frumpy

Dear F&F,

I have three tips that are sure to help.

1. Clearasil

2. Get off the couch

3. That’s why God made leggings and over-sized t-shirts

4. Send me all unwanted footwear

Why do I go kicking and screaming into old age? When does the madness end?

Today, while my wife and I were walking complaining about age and desire to lose weight, a woman chugging up the hill the other way said to my wife, and I paraphrase, “Your legs look great. You’re my ideal.”

Considering all she sees in the mirror are cheesy thighs and crepey skin, you can imagine her reaction. Beaming is the word. She could live on that compliment for weeks.

So, when you’re feeling less than perfect, just remember: Your nightmare is someone else’s dream. 

K.G.

No Vain, No Gain

Disrobing in front of a full-length mirror is like slowing down at the scene of an accident. No matter how hideous it is… you just have to look.  -K.G.

It’s one in the afternoon, 89 degrees outside, I just finished a six-and-a-half mile run over the rolling hills of Fullerton, California, and I’m sweating like a gray-haired pig in a sauna. Crazy you say. I would give you a high-five if I could catch my breath long enough.

I absolutely hate exercising. There, I said it. It sucks bugs. I would be much happier laying on the couch in my Sponge Bob undies with a tub of Rocky Road balanced on my stomach and a slightly stale (like ‘em with a little snap) box of Red Vines clutched between my chubby little fingers while binge watching Project Runway.

Why do I torture myself, you ask? After all, Walmart sells clothes in larger sizes and black compression socks are kinda in. I often ask myself this same question. It’s all vanity. There. I said it again. I plan to be buried in a pair of skinny jeans and a slim-fit V-neck tee. If you don’t see my feet, know that I’ll be rockin’ some righteous Chucks when I hit the pearly gates.

I’ve been reading about a new pill that tricks your muscles into thinking they just worked out; burns fat without leaving the couch. Can I get an Amen for that? And if you exercise while taking these miracle pills the effect is amplified. So if you go to the fridge for a beer, and to the bathroom say, twice an hour, before you know it you’d look like that guy with the abs who’s shacking up with Sophia Vergara.

Science is so much fun. Way more fun than exercising. I assume cloned new bodies won’t be far off. Think I’ll stretch out on the sofa with a gallon of Ben & Jerry’s Boom Chocolatta and watch Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

K.G.